“What’s that?” I asked as I looked up from the football game at the seething Fallen Angel making a beeline to my couch.
“Trump can kiss my jingle bells,” he repeated slightly more calmly. “I’d like to use harsher language, but I’m well aware that this is a family friendly blog.”
“Thank you,” I said sincerely and handed Lucifer an ice cold Snapple from the cooler in front of the couch.
He took it with a nod and sat down on the couch. After a deep breath, he tugged the crease on his right pants leg, and once satisfied, opened his iced tea and took a long sip.
“What I really want to do is stick his chestnuts on my pitchfork and then roast them over an open fire,” The Prince of Darkness informed me in a voice that resembled a growl. “Then we can deck the halls with whatever the Hell that is living on his head.”
“Want to talk about it?” I asked as I snatched a Snapple of my own out of the cooler.
It was the Christmas Season after all, so I was in the mood to be giving of my time, patience, and sanity to help a friend in need.
Plus, I find Trump to be a major annoyance, so I was very curious as to what he had done to get Satan this hot under his extremely expensive collar.
“Christmas is a very busy time for me,” The Devil explained after another sip of Snapple. “You’d think it would be slow, with Christians celebrating the birthday of their know it all, daddy’s boy Savior, but it’s just the opposite. People are quick to part with their souls in return for either the Christmas present of their dreams, or the cash to purchase dream Christmas presents for those they love.”
“That makes sense, I guess,” I volunteered with a shrug.
“So with business booming, and me without flying reindeer to get me all over the world in a matter of minutes, I really have to manage my time well in order to see all these new clients before they get cold feet or rob a bank,” Lucifer continued as the anger slowly crept back into his voice. “This being the case, I don’t have time to deal with the overwhelming number of demands for interviews from the press and various agents of social media.”
Okay, he was losing me again. It was nothing new, but this time, I really was trying to follow what he was saying.
“What demands for interviews?” I asked in bewilderment.
The Prince of Darkness laughed so hard that his belly would have shook like a bowl full of jelly had it not been the set of washboard abs I assumed he had stashed beneath the thousand dollar suit.
“All day long, I’m getting requests to talk about Donald Trump!” he grumbled as his horns grew even longer. “Everyone assumes that we’re in cahoots because the buffoon is so far ahead in the polls even though he rants and raves like a racist misogynist who escaped from the operating room in the middle of his lobotomy.”
I had to chuckle at that creative, yet spot on description of the man who could very well be the Republican Party’s candidate for President in 2016.
“So you don’t have anything to do with his inexplicable success?” I asked. “It had never crossed my mind because I’ve been under the impression that the Republicans have gone completely insane, but it does make sense now that I think about it.”
Satan shot up off the couch so quickly that it scared the Hell out of me.
“I have nothing to do with that orange abomination!” The Devil yelled down at me as his eye turned black with rage. “It’s quite obvious I’m getting his soul once the sand runs out in his hourglass, so there’s no way in Hell I’d ever make a deal with him.”
“I wouldn’t put it past Nicholas,” Lucifer said with a sigh as he sat down again. “He does suffer from cabin fever trapped up at The North Pole with those annoying little elves all year.”
“Perhaps Santa had his elves make him a President Trump doll to play with to help stave off the cabin fever, things got a little out of control one night after too much eggnog was consumed in Santa’s Workshop, and some Christmas Magic accidentally got spilled and brought the President Trump doll to life. Only it was evil because this all happened on the night of the blood moon.”
The Prince of Darkness looked over at me warily. “You’re starting to freak me out a little, Writer Boy, but you’re making me laugh and forget how angry I am. Hell is filled with lawyers and PR flacks. I’ll have them prepare a statement and deal with all the press requests so I can go back to doing the part of my job that I love.”
“I feel so filled with the Christmas Spirit now,” I quipped sarcastically.
“It would neatly tie up this post with a call back to your opening line,” I replied as I considered his offer.
“This writing thing is so easy,” he remarked with a Devilish grin on his handsome face.
“Kiss my jingle bells,” I replied.